The passports are ready, we have the tent and almost every other piece of camping equipment known to man. We’re planning on making the leap from camping on the North Norfolk coast (close enough so if there’s a disaster we can come home), to somewhere a little warmer (maybe). A little further away, somewhere that involves a ferry crossing.
After all, it will be exciting for the kids and they’ll get to learn something about other countries, right?
Wrong. They cannot be trusted.
With their cute little curls around their ears and winsome smiles, they look the very picture of innocence. But do not be deceived, they are secretly planning to spark an international incident that will go down as the mother of all embarrassing situations.
Eldest son has been interested in WW1 & WW2 for some time, we have pictures of relatives taken during the war around the house and they did something at school about it, so we just put it down to natural curiosity and “boy stuff”. Then it developed into an interest in war games and comics and then a whole heap of plastic toy soldiers appeared in my house.
I’m not actually sure at what point I allowed to this to happen, in fact I’m not even sure I was consulted. They just appeared, flying under the radar. (And into the vacuum cleaner if you’re not careful, where they wreak all kinds of havoc). Then the tanks appeared and by then you just take it for granted that your husband is having a mid-life crisis.
So it was that I took youngest son to have his feet measured. I bought him a small toy helicopter as a bribe beforehand (I don’t mind admitting it). A yellow one, it’s supposed to be a rescue helicopter. He likes it. He spends a while sitting on the floor playing with it, while the lady with the patience of a saint in the shoe shop brings out 15 boxes of shoes in his size.
And we’re chatting, like you do when you get the opportunity to talk to someone who doesn’t begin and end every sentence with the word “mummmeeeeeee” all the time. So it took me a few moments to realise what it actually was that he was muttering to himself while playing with the innocent looking helicopter.
It was the “pow pow” noise of pretend guns that we noticed at first. The shop was busy, everyone smiled, boys play guns and stuff don’t they? So I laughed and said “No darling, it’s not that sort of helicopter, it rescues people.”
Everyone’s still smiling.
Then it came:
“No Mummy, pow pow, kill the Germans”
Looks like it’s Norfolk again this year.